A culture of death among the undead

Distribution Service: Theatrical
MPAA Rating: R
USCCB Rating: NR
Reel Rating: 1.5 out of 5

In 2002, when British unknown Danny Boyle premiered 28 Days Later, the zombie genre was largely dormant (or dead). But his low-budget horror film brought it back to life. It introduced several tropes that became well-established over the next two decades, including fast-moving zombies, virus outbreaks, and small human colonies that turned out to be dystopian nightmares worse than the undead outside the fence.

Five years later, he produced the sequel 28 Weeks Later, which was a competent but by-the-books entry.

Now comes 28 Years Later, which, unlike the previous entries, attempts to grapple with the philosophical quandaries posed within this universe. It succeeds for the first two acts, but sadly disintegrates in the third. Yes, there will be another one next year, but there is less anticipation now than before.

As the title implies, it has been twenty-eight years since the Rage virus ravaged Great Britain, which has been quarantined by the rest of the world, while apparently continuing the natural course of history since 2002 (smartphones, Botox, and so forth). Within this now mostly abandoned island, there are still small pockets of civilization, including Lindisfarne, a tidal island in Scotland whose occasional connection to the mainland provides both protection and access to resources.

The story begins with Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) taking his twelve-year-old son Spike (Alfie Williams) on his first hunting expedition, for both game and zombies. Spike is less concerned with the undead than his ailing mother, Isla (Jodie Comer), who is suffering from a debilitating mental illness. When he learns of a mysterious doctor still living deep in the forest, he secretly ushers his mother outside the safety of the community for an odyssey through many dangers to see if she can be saved.

Like a handful of directors, Danny Boyle has a distinct style that makes his works instantly recognizable. In 28 Years Later, these trademarks are on full display: crooked camera angles, archival footage, fast cutting, and compelling musical juxtaposition. All of these give the film a manic and claustrophobic tone. He doesn’t need jump scares because there is always a sense that the zombies could come at any time. As a pure work of action, the film does incredibly well.

As a work of truth, however, it lacks bite. When Spike encounters his first zombie and is hesitant to kill the creature, his father informs him that “the soul is in the mind, so when the mind goes, it isn’t there.” While there are other ways to justify zombicide, this has horrific implications for the non-undead. If Spike’s mother continues to decline, does this mean she will not be human? No wonder he risks everything to save her. He does find the elusive doctor, who has created a macabre museum of bones, including a tower of skulls.

The purpose, he tells the terrified tween is “Memento mori/Remember, you must die.” This phrase has deep Catholic roots, but this isn’t what the physician means. When he diagnoses Isla with brain cancer, she volunteers not only to be euthanized but, in a matter of minutes, turns into the newest member of his collection. To the swelling chords of the uplifting score, Spike places her now bone white face atop the tower and turns her to see the rising sun. It’s supposed to be the beautiful climax of the film.

It isn’t. Instead, it’s a disturbing reminder that, even without a zombie apocalypse, the United Kingdom has embraced a culture of death. Ironically, the UK Parliament introduced a sweeping euthanasia bill months before this film’s premiere. It completely undermines the first two-thirds of the movie, which saw people go to great lengths to preserve life, even that of an inconvenient newborn infant.

Like the small town, this is still a culture that, while preserving a Christian varnish, has embraced a pagan attitude represented by the voracious enemy.

I was excited about this film after its amazing trailer, despite not having seen its predecessors. But, like many films of the genre, it fails to fully realize its potential to show heroic virtue amidst the most horrid of circumstances. (And it ends with a bizarre reveal that sets up a sequel, which has already been filmed.)

Fortunately, we have the lives of saints like Damian Molokai or Anna Schäffer as examples of the heroic virtue that Boyle fails to portray—virtue rooted in love of life and love of He Who is Life.